


The Girl Whose Hair Matched Her Eyes

by Madame_Rose



Category: David Bowie (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8268862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Rose/pseuds/Madame_Rose
Summary: Inspired by David Bowie's song "Janine"





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first post here will be this, my fist absolute work of passion. It came over me and was written in a day. Aside from spelling, no changes were made, nor do I think there needs to be. Please enjoy~

It was late in the afternoon when he saw her, out of place-yet exactly where she needed to be. He had ducked into this pub to find a smokey corner to get away from the lads and his producer. He needed to write just a few more songs before the second album could go. But aside from locals who nodded at his presence, no one was going to bother him there.  
He sat there in his smoky corner, a lit cigarette and a pint vying for the dominance of his attention. But his eyes kept flickering towards her. She just sat there in the center of the pub, with a pen and a notepad. She wore a thin sweater and corduroy jeans and her hair had the most unnatural tint in the dingy light.  
Taking a sip of his pint, he watched her brush aside the strange hued hair and noticed the pen was not an ordinary one. She was using a quill. She then placed the quill momentarily into the reservoir to stretch and sip the drink in front of her. He averted his eyes, hoping no one would notice his staring from the obscure corner of the bar and checked his own jacket pockets for a pad and pen. The muse might be in the air with other creatives in the room.  
He jumped as a glass slammed onto a table and he looked up to see the girl leaving her writing and heading to the bathroom.  
The barkeep came around to refresh his ashtray and pint and he asked what the girl was drinking. "Oh you can't keep up with her," he said rather low, "she's drunk half a bottle of my finest vodka on her own and there's no mixing it with anything for her." He smiled, ordered her a new glass, and waited for her to return.  
When the woman returned to her table she checked to see if her writing was dry, blotted the page, and looked like she was reading over her work. It took a minute for her to notice the fresh glass next to her and she held it up, looking for an impurity in the clear liquid.  
He got up from his corner and walked over to her, still trying to place the color of her gently waving hair. Upon closer inspection, he could see that it was large with the humidity and was the sort to look unkempt no matter how brushed it actually was. He wanted to touch it. That perhaps the texture may allude to its true nature. When he got to her table he spoke, "You looked rather thirsty, thought I'd refill your cup." She looked at him for a long moment. and her was lost in her eyes. A translucent hue, as distinct, yet unpeaceable in the dim atmosphere around them. A spark of recognition seemed to light her face, yet she pushed it down and nodded at him. She motioned for a toast before knocking back the drink in one move and slamming her glass upside down on the table. She gestured for him to sit.  
After catching her wind from the shot, she looked him dead in the eye and smiled. He felt that that under normal circumstances, the sure glance would have unnerved him, but on this girl, it just seemed to fit. She was strange, but he liked it.  
"Thank you fer the drink, ehh..." She looked down at her notes. He thought saw a look on her face like she knew what he was going to say.  
"David, have we met?" It was possible, he had met a lot of girls since he got into music.  
"No, i just thought I recognized you from somewhere." She bookmarked the page in her writing and closed the book. "I like to pick up music by local bands when I pass through places like this, maybe I've seen you on an album?" she posed.  
"Yea, I did put out some music recently, if you did buy one, thanks for supporting the cause." He smirked. He liked her accent, it was non-committal, like she came from nowhere, yet he could hear all the places she had been. "So, you're travelling around, looking for something?"  
"Well, it isn't so much about what I look for, as what I find." She poked a thin finger at him, "I would'a had to look a lot harder had I been on the hunt fer you." She giggled. "Whew, time for some air, I think." She began packing away her book and cleaning off her quill before placing it in a case with an assortment of other nibs and handles. "You coming then, David, or are you gonna let the vagabond to her wanderin'?" She got up, going to the bar to pay her tab. She thanked the barman before throwing a glance over at David who had finished his pint and snuffed his cigarette.  
He followed her out into the night and saw just how late it had gotten. The moon was out and lamps lit the street, haloing the girls hair. She bummed a cigarette from him and he lit it for her. She took a deep drag and stared at it as she exhaled. "Well that's not terrible."  
"Have you never had one?"  
"Not this kind. I don't really smoke, I just pick one up now and then to confirm it's not really for me. She held the butt between her lips and swung herself not-so-gracefully around a lamppost. "My friends used to say they could see me in Paris, covered in tattoos, drinking wine and smoking like a proper French artist." She blew a smoke ring. "Ah, mais oui, la vie d'artiste. C'est ci bonne, non?"  
He smiled at her, most genuinely, "we don't get girls like you around here. Drinking hard, writing with quills, speaking French, and having odd colored hair."  
"No," she said, "not many places do. I guess what I'm really looking for is something-" she looked at him under her lashes with those sparkling eyes, "-someone, to either anchor me, or tag along."  
They walked along the road in silence for a short time, wandering closer and farther apart and closer again.  
The night air had been quite sobering and David was hoping she would take him home with her. She was very pretty, he decided. A bit thicker than the girls in town; easily twice his skinny frame. And her smile grew lovelier by the minute. But they ended up at a park he had forgotten about. She sang to him, apparently the book she had was filled with poems, journals, songs, and she wanted to share them with someone. Her soft voice tickled the night air. She had some louder pieces, she said, but didn't want to wake the sleeping city with her full voice. It seemed the more he learned of this girl, the less he really knew.  
Her work was dark, yet beautiful. As haunting as her visage in the night. She recited what she had been working on in the pub.

On nights filled with mist  
the will o' the wisp  
they dance with a lingering smile  
don't venture alone  
or dare leave your home  
lest you end on their shimmering isle  
Rum da li da  
they'll take you away  
Rum da li do  
ne'er to go home

This girl was so fascinating. She just didn't end with wonder. They ended up wandering out of the park and back towards the hotel he presumed she was staying in. "Could I maybe catch your name? Warm myself by the fire?"  
She smiled with a dark glint in her eye, "As much as I'd /really/ love that David, how about I see you again tomorrow? We can have lunch." She opened the door and then shut it, looking back at him. She fidgeted with her bag behind her like a schoolgirl. "You can drop by around one?" She looked up and in the lamplight, he could spot a hint of a blush on her cheeks. Was it the cold, he wondered. And as he was thinking this she stepped up to him and gave him a quick hug, just brushing the side of his face with her lips shyly. "A bientot!" she called, rushing behind the door. He stood there for a moment, bewildered at the girl he had just walked home. He was surely going to try and see her again. He hadn't been interested in a girl like this since he was a boy.

David felt a bit stupid as he got ready for his lunch with this mystery girl. Was this a date? Did he need to wear something nice? Her bar clothes were a bit nicer than the usual patron, who's to say she wouldn't dress better during the day. He didn't want to seem like an idiot. But thinking against it, the creative types were either comfortable or showy. He decided on a neutral denim and brown button up combo. He mussed his hair a bit and headed off towards the hotel he left her at the night before.  
She must have been watching for him because she had been out the door no later than when he set foot on the tile path off the street. She beamed at him. He could see now in the daylight the smoky blue gray of her hair and eyes, so clear and inviting. Her short hair was tied in a black ribbon and she was wearing a sort of black sundress. She looked like a wicked pixie with thick black rimming yer eyes, a pert smile on her lips. "I'm so glad you came back David, I know just the spot for a bit of nosh and I bet you've prolly never been there!" She grabbed his hand and whisked him steadily off. They laughed and he complimented her on her performance of the night, assuring her that he did in fact mean it. He was enchanted at how she took him very seriously and acted as if she had known him all her life. The place she took him was indeed somewhere new. It was murky, yet warm. It seemed just the kind of place to drink an espresso and read a thick book. It immediately fit the idea he had of her.  
"So, are you going to tell me your name yet, my dear?"  
"Oh maybe, if you tell me how your eye got the way it is. Is it hard to see out of?"  
Not many people noticed his eye much, they usually assumed it was another color. After settling in with some jasmine tea, he told her about his mate in school knocked him for making a pass at his girl, permanently dilating his eye. He admitted the bright light can sometimes be a bit much but that he had gotten more used to it as the years got on. They continued this chat of him asking her name and her asking some other astute question before night wandered in and they were back wandering the streets. She sang to him, La Vie en Rose, and this time when they got to her door, she said nothing, but pulled him inside.  
Once in the room she claimed to herself, he saw the small collection of things she picked up on her travels. next to a record player was his album among many others.  
"So you did recognize me," he chuckled, ah that haircut, it was so out of place in this day. He had started growing it out right after that album.  
"Yes, I have a good eye for faces, names however are a different matter." she knew he was going to segway into asking hers, and interjected "All in good time, dear."  
"Well, I can't keep calling you 'the girl whose hair matched her eyes' or 'the girl with her head in the sky'"  
"my head in the sky," she laughed, "do explain that one, darling." She sat on the small bed, looking intently at him, then blushing and looking away when his eyes met hers.  
"Well, because your hair is as soft and light as a cloud, moonlit and glowing." He crept up to her and gently grabbed her chin, "It shades and reveals the eyes that shine and fog and hold the stars." She stared into his eyes, their faces growing closer. "And your lips, so like the moon..."  
"How?" she asked with bated breath.  
"Well," he smirked, "the longer I stare at them, the more I want to-" And they were locked together. Lips melded and flesh grasped for flesh until the seal of their mouths was not enough to contain the pressure within them.  
Hands sought the that which was hidden to them. In the heat of their passion, climbing ever higher she gasped out her name for him to call upon the heavens. And in that call she broke. The skies she saw fell into her eyes just as he said they did and she was soon joined in her drowsy bliss. They panted and lay together, two people thrown together in that time and place. Neither spoke, not wanting to end that beautiful moment.

A month passed this way, lovers spending as oft as they could together. Under the moon, or sun; amongst others or behind closed doors. He only used her blessed name in those sweet moments of bliss. It was love. Neither one could answer enough questions or hold the other close enough, and when words failed and music went silent, they simply were together; that was enough. One sunny day in the park he used her name, which caught her attention. He pulled her close and asked if she would stay with him, let him be her anchor or travel companion. He wanted to be with her always. Her eyes welled up and she leaned into him. “I would wish for nothing more.” THey eloped and spent a wonderful weekend tucked away in the countryside. One morning, David awoke to see her leaning on a windowsill, looking at the light cast across him. “I don’t know how much longer I have here, David.” she said sadly. The stormclouds in her eyes drew heavy. “My tide is almost in, I’m afraid.” He sat up straight, wide awake at her words. “And please, don’t think I’m leaving on whimsy, I love you, more than anything. But I cannot tie you down, you are destined for so much more. I just want to know you will always remember me. Should we never meet again in this life, that you will always love me?” Tears ran down from her eyes, those open, blue eyes. “That you will continue to learn and explore and love in everything that you do.”  
“Of, course, but why? Why do you have to leave?” He came to cradle her, holding in his arms the most importants thin in his life. He felt his own tears forming.  
“I cannot say, but I feel I am not long here. I must go so that I will be of no burden to those who outlive me. But please, before I leave, play me a song.” She leaned into his shoulder and kissed him just beside his ear before whispering, “play me my song.”  
And so David let her lean on the window again as he went and brought out his guitar and gently began to play.

Oh my love, Janine  
I'm helpless for your smile  
Like a Polish wanderer  
I travel ever onwards to your land  
And were it not just for the jewels, I'd close your hand

Your strange demand  
To 'collocate' my mind  
Scares me into gloom  
You're too intense  
I'll have to keep you in your place  
I've no defence  
I've got to keep my veil on my face

Janine, Janine, you'd like to know me well  
But I've got things inside my head  
That even I can't face

Janine, Janine, you'd like to crash  
my walls  
But if you take an axe to me  
You'll kill another man  
Not me at all

You're fey, Janine  
A tripper to the last  
But if I catch you standing on my toes  
I'll have a right to shout you down  
For you're a lazy stream  
In which my thoughts would drown

So stay, Janine  
And we can glide along  
I've caught your wings for laughs  
I'm not obliged to read you statements of the year  
So take your glasses off  
And don't act so sincere

Janine, Janine, you'd like to know me well  
But I've got things inside my head  
That even I can't face

Janine, Janine, you'd like to crash  
my walls  
But if you take an axe to me  
You'll kill another man  
Not me at all


End file.
